


2 Pastries + 2 Coffees = Us

by gettingaphdinlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, Five Times, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, OT5, Zayn is cooler than you, bear claws are big pastries, this is set in America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:51:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettingaphdinlarry/pseuds/gettingaphdinlarry
Summary: Harry: Liam, help me.Liam: what’s wrong?Harry: There’s a really hot guy in the library.Liam: a hot guy? in the library? lol yeah rightHarry: No, fuck, he’s hot.Liam: pics or bullshitOr the four times Harry and Louis didn't meet at the library and the one time they finally did.





	2 Pastries + 2 Coffees = Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glitterlarries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterlarries/gifts).



> Thank you to my beta [MyOwnSparkNow](http://myownsparknow.tumblr.com) for all of your support and encouragement. I could not have done this without you.
> 
> Glitterlarries, I hope you enjoy.

**Time**

Harry shuffled up the wide marble steps of the Wilson Library. Huge windows, mimeograph machines in the basement, and plush chairs in the sitting room—those things drew him in, sure.

But it was the rarely-used top floor full of open tables, old books, and dust that danced unperturbed on beams of sunlight that kept him coming back to this library, time and time again. He may be studying chemistry, but in the humanities library he was less likely to run into anyone he knew, so he could actually get some work done.

That’s what he told himself, at least.

It was really the books that got him. Books about language and sex and maps and old travel journals written by moneyed aristocrats who traveled with steamer trunks and wrote clueless things about the cultures they were trampling on.

So much more interesting than chemistry!

Harry pulled open the heavy oak door and lifted a hand toward Zayn, the work-study employee who worked so many evenings. Zayn nodded his greeting and Harry immediately headed toward the corner staircase and up to the third floor.

The room was empty, as it always was, and Harry stood in the center of it and spun around three times, his arms held out wide. This felt like his space, more than his dorm room did, more than the chem labs.

Harry tossed his bag on his favorite table, the one tucked into the corner, a window in front of him and one beside his shoulder, both of them covered in thick, wavy glass. It was drafty, it was too hot or too cold, never just right. It was his spot. It was perfect. Harry reached for the switch on the library lamp, and golden light spilled over the table.

Ear buds in, chair pushed back, and feet propped on a second chair, he pulled out sheets of blank, printable business cards and cracked them along the perforations. Time for flashcards.

Meth-, eth-, prop-, but-… Harry drew a hand through his short hair and rolled his eyes. Organic chemistry sucked. Maybe he should major in biology instead. Not physics, certainly not physics. Harry’s head started bouncing along to his music, and his body soon followed, rocking in his chair. At least nobody could take away his music. He paid for that. Himself.

Harry was finishing up his cards when something moved near the corner of his eye. Harry turned his head slowly to see a lithe man sitting across the room. One foot was planted on the floor, the ankle of his other leg resting on his knee. He was sprawled casually, one arm folded over the back of the chair, the other hand fixing his auburn fringe.

And he was smirking.

A heat rose on Harry’s cheeks and he stared at his book. How long had the man been there? And who was he? What in the world was he doing in Harry’s space?

Harry glanced at the man again, who placed one hand on the center of his open textbook. He leaned forward and started reading.

Harry shook his head and shuffled his pile of flashcards, mixing up the stems and their definitions. He flipped through the stack, making two piles of cards: right and wrong. He peered over the top of his cards. He was shifting in his seat, and Harry couldn’t stop looking.

Harry ran through his flashcards one more time and pulled out his cell phone.

Liam, help me.

what’s wrong?

There’s a really hot guy in the library.

a hot guy? in the library? lol yeah right

No, fuck, he’s hot.

pics or bullshit

You’re an idiot.

I can’t get a pic of him, he’s the only other one here.

ask for study help

I’m in Wilson! I doubt he’s studying chemistry.

now who’s an idiot? you can’t even ask for help

What do I do?

say hi! you’re smart, you’re funny, and you smell good

what’s not to love!

when you getting back to the dorm? might bring someone home

Oh God, put a sock on the doorknob.

i’m on it, stay through library closing

Dammit. What if he’s here the whole time?

Liam?

Arggg.

Harry tapped the phone against his thigh several times and looked at his watch. Over an hour before closing. He had eighty-three minutes to work up the courage to talk to the man. He doodled in the pages of his notebook, hydrogen atoms and water molecules, the one molecule he could draw in his sleep.

He stole glances at the guy sitting clear across the room. His textbooks didn’t appear to be related to chemistry—of course—and he kept writing in a notebook. Lists? Columns? Every once in a while, he’d play on his phone.

And then he caught Harry staring.

Harry’s head whipped back to his books and he felt his face and chest flush. Dammit. He looked at his phone. Sixty-four minutes left. Ugh. Harry’s leg started jiggling, his nervous habit. Liam always yelled at him while he was studying, said he was too rough, made the whole room shake. What did Liam know anyways? Just walk up to this guy? This guy with great hair and nice scruff, dressed in a light brown jacket and jeans—cuffed jeans. Who cuffed their jeans? Jesus—

Harry’s knee banged on the underside of his table, making his books—and him—jump.

Both hands flew to Harry’s thighs, pressing his legs into place, stopping them. Harry steeled his gaze, refusing to look at the hot man across the room. He looked at his books, his flashcards, his backpack and wallet. Thank God for the Honor Code, he could leave most of this stuff here. Still, he was going to have to pass the guy. Dammit.

Grabbing only his phone, Harry stood and rolled out his shoulders, attempting to look casual about it. He strode to the door confidently, opened it and left the room, rushing down the stairs.

As soon as he heard the door close, Harry leaned against the wall, giving himself some time to breathe. Then he headed to the men’s room to splash some water over his face, and to see that Liam had not responded to his text. Harry looked at the mirror and said, “You can do this. You’re smart and you smell good. Just ask him what he’s studying.” Harry flashed a smile at himself. He could do this!

Forty-two minutes left.

When Harry returned to the third floor the man was gone.

Harry did a sweep of the room. The only things left were his own, as he’d left them, untouched.

“Fuck,” Harry groaned, glancing at his phone.

Thirty-four minutes.

 

**Texts**

Louis stifled a yawn over his macroeconomics textbook. The weak light at his desk was buzzing faintly and it was giving him a headache. Louis stretched in his seat, then stood up and gazed out his dorm room window. He practically had a single, since his roommate was never around, which was fine most of the time, but sometimes he just wanted some sort of a distraction.

Louis gathered his books and dumped them in his backpack, then wandered through the dining hall, where he grabbed a banana and a bear claw pastry. He stashed the fruit in his bag and ate the bear claw on his way to the library.

Zayn nodded when Louis came through the door. He sat behind the desk, the NO FOOD NO DRINK sign in front of him ignored as he sipped from his reusable coffee cup. “Help ya with anything?” he asked.

“No, just studying,” Louis said with a smile.

“Cool,” Zayn responded, flipping the page in his own textbook. “Library’s pretty dead tonight.”

“Think I’ll head up to the third floor.”

“Third floor’s _always_ dead,” Zayn said. “Nobody ever checks out books from the third floor.”

Louis wasn’t sure how to respond, or if Zayn was even really talking to him, so he nodded, smiled and trudged his way up the staircase, his feet echoing in the silence.

When Louis entered the room, he stopped dead in his tracks. Maybe he could flee, before being seen.

The man across the room tilted his head in Louis’ direction.

Or. He could stand here. Feet nailed into place.

The man nodded at him and curled his shoulders back over his books. If Louis squinted, he was pretty sure he could see a smile on the man’s lips.

Louis’ feet carried him into the room, despite his wishes. He dropped his things on a table a few feet from the door. He sat so he was parallel to the man and took out his books, arranging them slowly, quietly, using the extra time to peek across the room.

Lanky limbs folded awkwardly away from his body, short hair, strong jawline. Yep, it was the same guy: James C. Or maybe James, C. Louis wasn’t sure, he just knew when James left last week he’d scurried over to his things and stolen a glance at the name written in black marker over the pages at the end of his textbook.

James. What a regal name.

Louis sat down with a sigh, one louder than he intended. He opened up his econ textbook and started to read the two chapters due for his next class. Or, at least, he tried to. He eyes slid off the page and onto James.

Who was looking at him.

Shit.

Louis’ eyes snapped back to his book. Econ. Econ was important. It was his “useful” minor to compliment his major in East Asian Languages and Literature. He wasn’t sure why learning languages wasn’t useful enough, but his parents were paying for his tuition, so it wasn’t worth arguing.

Louis tore a piece of lined paper out of his notebook and made two lists.

Reasons to Talk to James:  
He’s smart (chem!)  
He’s cute  
He knows this is the best place in the library  
He keeps looking at me  
I keep looking at him  
I haven’t seen him in forever and may never see him again  
He moves like an arthritic cat and it’s kind of interesting

Reasons Not to Talk to James:  
I have no idea what to say  
What if he doesn’t like me  
Forever is like six days and I’m exaggerating  
Maybe he hates people who exaggerate

Louis tapped his pen on his thigh and pursed his lips, studying the lists. Before James left, he’d talk to him, Louis decided. But until then, econ. In fact, approaching James could be his reward for studying econ. Louis grinned, satisfied with his plan, and propped his feet on the desk. He opened his book to the assigned chapter. “Consumers, Producers, and the Efficiency of Markets,” fantastic.

Louis read the page, sort of. His eyes would wander over it, across the table, down the table legs, across the floor, and up James’ legs. Then his eyes would roll back to the text and he’d start all over. After thirty pages of reading and only four paragraphs of actual comprehension, Louis gave up and took out his notebook again.

Things to Talk About:  
His major  
My major (not econ)  
If it’s cold by those windows  
If he’s going anywhere for Thanksgiving break  
How he manages to pour himself into those jeans

Louis crossed out the last one and wrote “If he wants to get coffee” instead. He chewed on the end of his pen and thought. There had to be a few more things they could talk about. Hometowns? Pets? Siblings? Roommates? Music?

A _tap tap tap_ interrupted Louis’ thoughts, and he turned his head slowly toward the noise.

Feet planted securely on the floor, elbows pressed against thighs, and his body hunched forward, James was tapping out a message on his phone. His neck muscles were tight and his brow was deeply creased.

Louis stared openly as James huffed and shook his head angrily before typing out another message. He threw his phone onto the desk and took out a little stack of cards. Flashcards, maybe? James flipped through the stacks, only to be interrupted by his phone pinging.

Louis watched as James read the message, turned off his phone, and jammed everything into his bag.

As James stormed toward the door, Louis felt his own brow crease with worry.

The door closed with a slam that made Louis flinch.

He pushed his chair back, propped his feet on the desk, and unzipped his backpack. He chomped on the banana he’d swiped from the dining hall and thought for a few minutes. A boyfriend? If so…maybe he shouldn’t pursue it. Although James was so angry, maybe it was the perfect time to make a move.

Louis pulled his notebook closer, shoved the end of the banana in his mouth and tucked the peel in a mesh side pocket. He scribbled in his notebook, nodding to himself.

Things NOT to Talk About:  
Those text messages  
Whoever sent those text messages

A few minutes later, Louis collected his things and clomped down the steps to the first floor. He bobbed his head towards Zayn on his way out. “Night, Zayn.”

“Hey—is your friend OK?”

Louis stopped and shifted his weight. He tugged the straps on his backpack and shrugged. “I don’t even know him, we’re not friends.”

“Oh, really? I thought you two must know each other, nobody else ever studies up there.”

“No, I don’t know him.” Louis hesitated and then tipped his head toward Zayn. “Does he come here a lot?”

“Most nights, not Tuesdays, but most other nights,” Zayn said. He sipped his drink and narrowed his eyes. “Is that a banana peel in your backpack?”

Louis stared at the NO FOOD NO DRINK sign. “No,” he said slowly. “I never eat in the library.”

Zayn’s hand shot out. “Give it to me, I’ll throw it away for you.”

“Don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m a rebel.”

Louis swung his backpack around to his front so he could reach his trash. “Thanks, man.”

“I hope that guy’s OK,” Zayn said, dropping the peel somewhere under his desk. “Seems nice.”

Louis slipped the backpack on again. “I hope so, too.”

 

**Projects**

Harry tucked himself into his corner of the library. Winter was rapidly approaching and the sunlight barely reached the window, with night having fallen. A lattice of frost was sewn around the edges of the windows where he settled in, the chill creeping under his skin.

Harry opened up his chemistry book and slipped lower into his seat. He ran his fingertips over the slick pages of his textbook, the words swimming in front of him.

He and his father hadn’t talked in several days, ever since his father had found out what his midterm chemistry grade was. That would have been bad enough, but then his sister had told their father he should let Harry major in what he loved instead of what he loathed. Her attempt to make things better only made things worse, setting off a string of messages from his father demanding to know why he wanted to study something so stupid.

Harry opened his phone. No text messages, a relief. Harry glanced through his recent text messages and messaged Liam.

The guy isn’t here.

was he there last monday?

No.

Maybe I should leave.

um

sock

What?

sock on the door

Liam!

hey, if you ever talk to this cute guy, you can put a sock on the knob

That sounds filthy.

if it’s good it is

You’re gross.

and you’re stuck at the library

Arggg.

Harry shoved his phone in his pocket and took out his earbuds. If he couldn’t be distracted by the man with the great profile and the pretty hair, he could be distracted by music at least.

Harry was working on the problems at the end of the chapter and grooving along when _he_ walked into the library. Harry brushed the eraser bits off of his paper with long sweeps of his hand. He flashed the man a stiff smile and his palm skidded across the paper, suddenly clammy. Harry rubbed his hands on his thighs, trying to look coy instead of nervous.

He was pretty sure he failed.

Harry thumbed at his phone, finding Liam’s text thread.

Are you still socking?

Li, pay attention to me.

That guy is here again.

And he’s sitting closer this time, by a few tables.

talk to him

I don’t have anything to say.

hi works

It’s not that easy.

sure it is, hi

see?

I hate you.

love you too, man

gotta go sox sox sox

Harry shook his phone a few times, as if that would somehow make everything better. Over one hundred minutes until the library closed, he had time tonight, but he wasn’t going to wait until the last hour, not this time. Harry’s phone buzzed again and he looked at it. _you know how i get sox?_ There was a brief pause and then a follow-up message: _hi._

A shiver crawled up Harry’s spine and he and stood up, crossing his arms loosely over his torso and rubbing them briskly, trying to warm up.

The man’s head rolled easily on his neck as he looked toward Harry and smiled.

Harry’s stomach fluttered and his legs were rubbery. He pulled his long t-shirt sleeves down and moved all of his books and materials two tables away, closer to the center of the room.

The man raised an eyebrow, a tiny smirk on his face.

Harry scuffed the toe of his shoe against the thin, light brown industrial carpet a few times. He shrugged and spoke to his feet. “Cold over there.”

“Yep, getting cold.”

Harry shook his head and looked at his phone. Ninety-four minutes. Harry plopped on the chair and tapped out another message.

I said it was cold over there and moved. 

He said yep, getting cold.

He answered!!

tell him you’ll warm him up!

Aren’t you getting laid?

no :(

See, hi doesn’t work.

i’ll try your cold line

Don’t you dare.

Gonna say something. Promise!

Harry put the phone away. Eighty-one minutes. More than enough time for him to finish his chem first. Harry reviewed the work he’d done, corrected an error, and started on the next odd problem, willing himself not to cheat and check the answers in the back of the book.

Harry finished the last problem and looked at his phone. As he was doing the mental math—sixty-three minutes—the door to the study room was pushed open with a _whoosh._

 _“_ Louis!” A blonde whirl of energy shouted, hands on his hips.

“Niall, shh, it’s a library.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” Niall asked Harry. He didn’t even wait for an answer. “Did you forget we’re supposed to meet for the Japanese project? We have to create that ad!”

“Oh shit, I forgot,” Louis said, gathering up his books so quickly one fell out of his hands. “I thought that was tomorrow.”

“Team’s been waiting for you for over twenty minutes. Student helper dude downstairs said you’d be up here.” Niall gave Harry the once over, making Harry squirm. “And you must be the other guy who’s always up here.”

“Uh, Zayn must’ve said that, right?” Louis said, his voice straining on the last word.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Niall said, clapping Louis hard on the back and keeping his hand there, pushing Louis toward the door. “Is that his name, Zayn? He said it.”

Louis shot Harry one last look. Harry watched plainly as the door squeaked closed behind them. Harry stood up and paced the room a few times. He finally sat on the table he was using and sighed.

His name is Louis or Louie or something.

you talked to him!

No, someone came and dragged him off to a group project.

so you didn’t talk to him?

Fuuuuuck.

I’m never coming here again.

I’m coming back. Sock it up somewhere else.

Harry swung his feet in the air rapidly, trying to kick away his own frustration. When that didn’t help, he packed up his bag and headed downstairs, shaking his head the whole time.

“You not in class together?”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Zayn. “I’m sorry?”

Zayn jutted his chin to the group study area, where Louis, Niall, and some other people were pantomiming pouring cereal. “I figured you two must share some classes if you’re always studying together.”

Harry glanced at the group and caught Louis looking at him. He held his gaze and said, “Oh, no, I don’t know him.” He broke eye contact, waved at Zayn and pushed the heavy oak doors open before looking at the time on his phone.

Fifty-two minutes.

 

**Music**

“Hey, Zayn,” Louis said, passing a banana across the desk.

“Hey, man! Thanks!” Zayn looked around a few times, flipped the banana over, and peeled it from the bottom.

Louis titled his head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Primates do it this way, so shall I. Hey, you know what I’d really love?”

“What?”

“A bear claw.”

“Want me to grab one now?”

“Nah,” Zayn said taking a bite of the banana. He swallowed hard and tapped his coffee. “I got a couple of these dumb reusable coffee cups at home. How about we make a deal? I got access to a sweet coffee maker in the staff room. All the coffee you want if you bring me a bear claw.”

“Man,” Louis said, “you really are a rebel.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow at Louis. “Bring another bear claw—two, I mean—and I’ll make you coffee for that guy you always study with.”

Louis narrowed his eyes at Zayn, even as he felt his cheeks turn hot. “What do you mean?”

“Ha! What do I mean?” Zayn held up two fingers. “Two bear claws, two cups of coffee—the fancy kind—two men studying alone. What could go wrong?”

“Is it that obvious I like him?” Louis asked.

“Obvious? I have worked at the library for three years. You know what you learn working in the library for three years?” When Louis shook his head, Zayn said, “People, man. People.”

“So…” Louis kicked the floor uselessly. “You think he likes me?”

Zayn snapped his fingers a few times. “Are you kidding? Should turn off the lights and use the electricity between the two of you.”

“You’ve never seen us together.”

“Yeah I did, when that blonde guy found you. Bear claws man, he’ll love you for it—you’ll be the only ones with coffee in the whole library.” Zayn rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. And me.”

Louis thought for a moment—oh, Japanese class. He tried to hide his grin but failed. He shifted his weight, started to walk away, and said, “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll have two of these reusable…” Zayn held up his cup and spoke more quietly, as if to himself, “What do they call these? Oh yeah!” His voice rose. “Tumblers!”

Louis turned around at the bottom of the stairs and nodded, giving Zayn a thumbs up, then he rushed up the stairs, eager to see if James was studying.

He wasn’t.

Louis sighed and slumped in a chair. He looked around the empty room, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamps along the walls. This old college hadn’t yet switched over to the dull buzz of florescent lights, or the harsh coolness of the energy efficient bulbs. Someone would argue it was a waste of his tuition bills, but Louis appreciated the touch.

He stood up, not bothering to remove his backpack. If James wasn’t here, there was no reason to stay. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet, so he wandered through the stacks. They filled the back half of the room, the aisles narrow and empty, the carpet pristine.

Trailing his fingers over the spines of the old books, Louis inhaled the rich mildew scent. It reminded him of camping along the river with his grandfather when he was younger, catching fish and learning to gut them. Waking up with the sun, searching for pearls in the freshwater mussels, and only finding mother-of-pearl.

Lost in his memories, Louis made his way down the row. When he reached the end, he looked up at a sconce on the wall. Louis looked around, searching for any cameras in the corners. Seeing none, he reached above his head, feeling the base while squinting against the green stained glass. He found a lever and pushed it, darkening the space.

In the shadow, Louis grinned.

He walked along the wall and left the next light on, but turned off the one after that. Just when he was about to turn another one off, darkening the corners and the edges, the door groaned.

Louis slipped behind the wooden shelves, bending his knees just a bit to soften his steps.

He heard the heavy weight of something crash onto a desk and a resigned sigh. Louis walked along the outside of the shelves until he was able to see James standing in the middle of the room, his back to Louis. His hands were on his hips.

“Well, shit,” he muttered. “Oh well, still have time to study,” he said. He threw his arms out to the side and started to walk in a circle. He looked like he was going to take flight. He body turned toward Louis, who spun on his heel and flattened his back against the bookshelf. His heart pounded and his closed his eyes tightly. He waited, listening to… Louis cocked his ear. It sounded like his sisters when they twirled in their dresses, the fabric puffing out beneath them.

Louis took a chance and peeked around the shelf quickly.

He was spinning! Whirling like a dervish, really.

Louis immediately snapped back into his hiding spot, made a fist and bit his knuckles, stifling a giggle. He listened and the movement stopped, then he heard footsteps and a body hitting a chair. When Louis was pretty sure he could control himself, he picked up and put down a book, loudly enough for James to hear. He walked toward the light he hadn’t turned off earlier and flipped the switch, so the entire stacked section had half the light it normally had.

Louis strode toward the study area, trying to be loud so he wouldn’t scare James.

James turned and flinched. “Oh!”

“I’m sorry!” Louis said. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

James, a hand held to his chest, doubled over and caught his breath. “Scared me to death!”

“I’m sorry, I was…turning off the lights.” Louis jutted a thumb over his shoulder and stood there, speechless. His hand felt to his side while he surveyed the scene in front of him. James was sitting in nearly the center of the room. Louis had no idea where to sit now that he was only three desks from Louis’ last-used spot.

James sucked in deep breaths. “You were what?”

“I dunno, I just wanted it a little darker. I can…I can turn them back on.”

“Is anyone over there?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other for a long moment and finally Louis tore his gaze away. “I…gotta study,” he said.

James sat up straighter in his seat and nodded, his voice calmer, more serious, a bit distant. “Me, too,” he said.

Louis sat down where he had before, only three tables between them. Louis took out a notebook and wrote.

What I Know About James:  
His name is James  
He is a dancer or wants to be  
I talked to him

Louis glanced at James and caught his eye. He smiled and waited for James to look away. When he finally did, his cheeks turning pink, Louis looked at his list and added four exclamation points, tempering his enthusiasm so James wouldn’t suspect Louis was gleefully writing about him.

Then Louis settled in and actually studied. Every once in a while, a smile would settle on his face as he imagined James dancing in the middle of the room, owning the space. He’d tilt his head toward James and nod or smile. Or he’d shift and notice James looking at him. As the night got longer, so did their stares—and Louis’ list.

He has nice eyes  
They’re green, I think  
Maybe I should’ve kept the lights on  
His hair kind of glows  
Maybe I should’ve turned all the lights off  
If I sprawled across the desks between us, my head would be in his lap, I think

Louis opened his phone. Five minutes to closing. He added to his list. “Talk to him. Talk to him. Just ask if he wants coffee or something. It’s a Friday night. He doesn’t have class tomorrow, he’s got time, he’s staring you down, go for—”

Zayn burst through the door, startling Louis—and James, by the looks of it. Zayn nodded at the men in the room and belted out, “Closing time, one last call for books, you all, so finish your studies in here.” Zayn bumped his hip against the back of James’ chair and grinned. He lifted his spine and looked at Louis. “Closing time, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here…”

Zayn stood up in the middle of the room, where Louis had sighed, where James had spun around. He sang the chorus, looking up at the ceiling. “I know who I want to take me home.”

Louis laughed in James’ direction, shaking his head. “Have you…”

“I know who I want to take me home!”

James’ hands were in his back pockets, his chest open and loose, his posture relaxed, his teeth showing as he chuckled. “No, this is…”

“I know who I want to take me home! Take me ho-o-ome…”

Louis leaned on the desk behind him and decided to enjoy the show.

“Closing time! Time for you to go out to the dorm rooms you will be from. Closing time! This room won't be open ’til your brothers or your classmates come. So gather up your backpacks, and move it to the exits. I hope you have found a friend.” Zayn rolled his head toward the door and then closed his eyes, his shoulders swaying with the beat. “Closing time… Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end… Yeah!”

Zayn opened up his eyes and repeated the chorus one more time, then swung his arm out to the side, pointing to the door with flourish. “Take me ho-o-ome!”

Louis applauded and James joined him, his jaw dropped. “What…was that?”

Zayn raised an eyebrow. "What, you don't like mid-nineties alternative music?" He ushered the men toward the door and pulled it closed behind him. “Time to go home, gentlemen. Or, at least, you can’t stay here.”

Louis laughed and dashed down the steps, turning only when he hit the main door of Wilson. He saw James and slowed down, “That was great, right?”

“It…” James laughed. “I had no idea Zayn could sing like that!”

“Me neither,” Louis said. He looked at the steps and then at James and then at his phone. “Well…guess I’d better be going. That way.” He pointed.

“Yeah, me…me too. Except…that way,” James answered, pointing in the opposite direction.

“Well, goodnight then.”

“Night.”

“Bye,” Louis said.

“Bye.” James waved and wandered off, and Louis did the same, calculating how much two bear claws per day, three days a week, the rest of his life would cost him.

 

**Coffee**

Harry dropped his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looked at the time. Louis wasn’t around yet, but Harry tried not to worry about that, because he was a bit early. He shrugged his coat off and draped it over the chair, then flicked on the desk lamp. He took a few spins before he walked through the stacks to the far end of the room.

Louis had turned off the lights, so Harry would, too. He felt around the sconce and found the switch. He did the same to the lights on either side, bathing that wall in darkness.

Standing in front of the window, Harry smoothed his blue shirt over his body and shoved his hands in his pockets. He rocked on his heels and gazed over the grassy quad making up the center of campus, watching people tighten their coats around themselves against the windy night. It was cold enough for snow, but the air was clear.

Harry narrowed his eyes when he saw one figure swinging a small bag as he headed toward the library. Was that…Louis? And what was he carrying?

The man bounded up the wide steps and looked up toward the third floor. He stopped for just a moment, his head cocked.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat and he stepped back quickly, hoping he hadn’t been seen. He counted to five and leaned forward. Louis was gone.

Harry busied himself with the lights. He wondered if he could get away with turning off every single one near the stacks. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it, and he tried to figure out an excuse if someone noticed. A headache? Sure, that would work. Harry turned off the last sconce and tapped the glass shade quickly. When his fingertips didn’t burn, he pressed his whole hand to the glass and felt the heat slowly fade.

The door creaked open and Harry turned around quickly to see Louis’ head over the tops of the shelves. Harry watched from a distance, suddenly shy. Louis wriggled his shoulders and slipped his backpack off, then his coat. He rolled his neck back and forth several times and stretched, looking rather feline.

“James? You here?”

Harry’s stomach knotted up tightly. Who was James? He frowned and shook his head to himself. Dammit. Did he have a boyfriend? Harry rested his hand over his abdomen, trying to press the pain down.

“Why is your stuff here?”

James’ stuff? Oh my God, he couldn’t even recognize Harry’s things? Harry chewed the inside of his cheek and blinked hard, trying to clear his eyes. Idiot! He was never interested in you!

Harry looked at his phone. Over two hours before closing. Shit. He should just go home—

“James?”

“Huh?”

Louis stood a few feet away, holding a large cup in either hand. He was wearing a black t-shirt, a plaid flannel shirt, and Chucks. And a knit hat. He looked like some bored rock star and Harry wanted to smell the collar of the flannel. Would it smell like soap or like Louis? “Were you turning off the lights?”

“Um, yeah.” Harry spread the fingers of his left hand and pressed the outside of his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. “My eyes are really irritated today, I just wanted less light.”

Louis nodded. “It’s nicer when it’s darker, helps me focus.”

Harry nodded and looked at the carpet, hoping the darkness helped hide him, too.

“Your name is James, right?” Louis asked, taking a half step forward.

Oh my God he thinks I’m James, but I’m not, that’s not, he’s looking for James, and James is me, he’s looking for me, oh crap, Harry, answer him, say something, say something, you’re the one he’s looking—”Yes, that’s me!” Harry shook his head rapidly. “Wait, no, that’s not me. Who’s James?”

Louis’ spine stiffened. “Oh, sorry, I…um…”

“James?” Harry’s brow knit itself together. “My name is Harry.”

“Oh God,” Louis said. “I…”

“Where’d you get James from?”

“The… I saw it on one of your books?”

“That’s James Corden!”

“Who?”

“I dunno, some student who sold me his books.”

Louis laughed, loud and clear. “I thought—I thought your name was James!”

“Nope. Pretty sure it’s Harry.” Harry grinned and met Louis’ eyes. They were so bright, even in the dark. The knot in Harry’s gut loosened.

“Boy, I feel dumb,” Louis said, shaking his head.

“No, don’t feel dumb, it makes sense. So you noticed my textbooks…” Harry let his voice trail off. There was no good way to end that sentence.

“I’m Louis.”

“I know,” Harry said. He cringed and closed his eyes. Shut the hell up, Harry! Stop talking!

“You know?”

Harry opened one eye. “That blonde kid.”

“That blonde kid,” Louis muttered, looking to the side. Recognition crossed his face. “Oh! Niall!”

“Japanese class or something,” Harry offered. He inhaled deeply. Hazelnut? “Day so bad you needed two cups of coffee?”

“Oh!” Louis held out one cup. “I…I thought maybe you’d want a coffee. I figured you'd be here…”

“You got me coffee?”

“I… It’s so cold? I thought it’d be nice?”

“That’s so…” Harry’s voice was softer than he wanted it to be, but if it embarrassed Louis, he hid it well. Harry stepped forward and took the cup Louis held out, their fingers brushing together. Too light, too quick, it made Harry’s skin feel electric. “Thank you.”

Louis smiled and brought his cup to his lips. “You’re welcome.” He took a sip of the coffee, not looking at Harry. “It’s the perfect temp, not too hot.”

Harry inhaled the steam and grinned. “We’re not supposed to have drinks in the—”

_Whooooo ooooh oooooh!_

“Shit!”

Lights flashed, white, clear and bright. _Fire! Fire! Fire!_ A splash and then warmth. Wetness.

“What the fuck?” Harry’s hands flew to his shirt, and his cup crashed to the ground with a crack, joining Louis’.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

_Whooooo ooooh oooooh! Fire! Fire! Fire!_

“It talks? The alarm—”

“Are you OK? Oh God, are you burnt?” The flashing light acted as a strobe in the dark corner, freezing Louis’ face in a series of grotesque masks: surprise, panic, worry. “I’m so sorry, it was the noise!”

“Louis! Fire! We have to go!” Harry put a hand on Louis’ shoulder and pushed him toward the door, then he wrapped his hand around Louis’ forearm, making sure he’d come.

“The door! We have to check if it’s hot!” Louis yelled, reaching his free hand out to touch the wooden door. “It’s cool, do you smell smoke?”

_Fire! Fire!_

“We know!” Harry shouted at the alarm while looking at the ceiling. “Stop telling us!”

Louis and Harry pulled open the door and rushed down the stairs together, their feet hitting the ground in the same time. They shoved the front doors to the library open and burst out into the night air, where students milled around in small groups.

“Damn!” Harry yelled, putting his hands on his knees and bending over. Breath, he needed to catch his breath.

“Your shirt is soaked, I’m so sorry, it’s so cold, take this,” Louis said, tugging his shirt sleeves over his hand. He handed Harry his flannel. “Please, it’s too cold.”

“But you’ll be cold, too,” Harry said, taking the shirt.

Louis waved his hand toward Harry’s shirt, which was soaked with coffee. “But not wet!”

“Thanks,” Harry said. He put the shirt on and started buttoning it, forcing himself not to sniff the fabric.

“Gentlemen!” A hand clapped Harry hard on the back. The firetrucks signaled in the distance and Harry’s head suddenly hurt and it was cold and he just wanted to go fall asleep in Louis’ shirt.

“Oof!”

Zayn grinned at Harry. “You OK?” Harry nodded and Zayn turned his head in the other direction. “And you?”

“Yeah, Zayn, is the library OK?” Louis asked.

Zayn started walking, pushing Harry and Louis along with him. “Library’s fine,” he said in a low, rough tone.

“You sure?” Harry turned to look at the library. “Is it an electrical—”

“It’ll be a while before you can get your things,” Zayn said. “Go have dinner or something.”

“It’s nearly nine,” Harry said. “I already ate.”

“Pizza place’s open.”

“My wallet’s upstairs,” Louis argued.

Zayn stopped, far enough away that his voice wouldn’t carry even in the night air. He reached in his back pocket, took out his wallet and slapped some bills into Louis’ palm. “If you don't get the hell out of this library, I burnt that popcorn accipurposely for nothing.”

“You _what_?” Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Accipurposely?” Louis raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know. I,” Zayn held his fingers up in air quotes and went on, “‘accidentally’ burnt popcorn. On purpose. Accipurposely.”

Harry shook his head and laughed. “What a great word, I’m gonna use it.”

“One of my teachers used to say ‘use a word three times and you own it,’” Zayn said. “Go forth with that knowledg—”

“I need my backpack,” Louis said.

Zayn push his hands on his hips and glared at Louis. “I did not waste a whole bag of popcorn for you to stay here. Your stuff will be fine, I’ll lock it up or even bring it back to my dorm room, but you are not—”

“He’s right,” Harry said, touching Louis’ arm. “It’s late. Let’s get pizza.”

“Smart man! Thank you for being the voice of reason.” Zayn nodded at Harry, then tipped his head toward Louis. “See? Smart.”

“We could… I can… I can always go for pizza,” Louis said.

Harry’s heart thumped in his chest and when he spoke, his voice was uneven. “So can I.”

Zayn started walking backwards. “Good Lord, finally…”

Louis opened his hand and looked at the bills. “He gave us forty bucks… Do you have time?”

“Can buy a lot of pizza for forty bucks,” Harry said, holding Louis’ gaze. He broke it and looked at his phone. Sixty-three minutes. “I have time. Should we go? Do you need a different shirt?”

“Huh, it is colder than I thought, yeah, can I… And you need a coat.” Louis looked surprised and shivered, as if he just realized he was in only a t-shirt. “My dorm’s—”

“That way,” Harry said while pointing. “I…remember.”

Louis pointed in the opposite direction. “And yours is that way.”

Harry laughed and nodded. “Right.”

“Harry’s dorm. Not James, Harry.”

Harry shook his head. “Not James.”

“Do you want to meet back here or—”

“I’m really OK without a coat, I can go to your dorm,” Harry said. His eyebrows shot up. “Wait, that’s not—”

“I know, I know.” Louis laughed and twisted a shoulder a few times. “Want to go? Follow me?”

Harry nodded and followed Louis. They walked toward the Gothic building, passing Zayn on the way. “God!” he said, just loudly enough for Harry to hear him. “Finally!”

Harry glared at Zayn, who merely smirked. “Which pizza place do you like best?”

“Ed’s,” Louis said.

“Oh thank God, I was afraid you’d say that other place, you know—”

“Eww, no!” Louis said. “Who likes that place?”

“First years who don’t know better,” Harry said.

“So, we’re here,” Louis unlocked the main door and stepped into the lounge. “Can you—”

“I’ll wait,” Harry said quickly. “Take your time.”

“Thanks,” Louis said, running up the stairs.

Harry sat down on the overstuffed couch that somehow managed to still sag in the middle. He pressed his cheek against his shoulder and sniffed Louis’ shirt. It didn’t smell like soap. It smelled like him.

Liam! We’re going to go have pizza!

yes! did you say hi?

No, fire alarm went off.

Zayn (the work study library guy) burnt popcorn on purpose.

lol tired of work huh

Uh, he did it to make us leave the library.

He gave us money.

$40. For pizza.

zayn is my hero

i owe him a beer

do you need to borrow a sock?

Liam! No!

“Hey!”

“Hey!” Harry smiled at Louis, who stood in front of him in an unzipped leather coat. He’d thrown another plaid shirt over his t-shirt, and he held a lightweight jacket in his hands. “This isn’t much, but I thought you might want it? If you don’t, I can just bring it back upstai—”

“It’s great,” Harry said, standing up.

“Let me,” Louis said, holding the coat out.

“Thanks.” Harry let Louis help him into the coat. His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. _have fun!_ “Just my roommate. Just a quick…”

“No problem,” Louis said.

Harry tapped out _Plan to!_ and turned his phone on silent. Forty-eight minutes and all the time in the world. “Ready?”

“Let’s go,” Louis said with a grin.

“Of course,” Harry said.

And so they went.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [TwoPoppies](http://twopoppies.tumblr.com/) for the [art post](http://gettingaphdinlarry.tumblr.com/post/150734055386/2-pastries-2-coffees-us-7413-words-by)!


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